


The Dairy Stump Keeper

by ManiLea



Category: Brambly Hedge - Jill Barklem
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-01-29 19:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12638031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManiLea/pseuds/ManiLea
Summary: Dusty takes the children to work at the flour mill, leaving Poppy with her first free day since they were born. A walk along the river takes back her to her old home, the Dairy Stump, kept running by Old Mrs Eyebright and Cicely Crustybread. Poppy considers returning to work, but her children are still young and she's not the mouse she used to be. Inspired by Summer Story and Poppy's Babies.





	1. They're not babies any more

“Poppy! Poppy?”

Poppy forced her eyelids open. She was standing over the kitchen sink, holding onto a soapy pot. Her paws had become sudsy and wrinkled while she'd been resting. Her husband was frowning at her from the doorway.

“Oh, Dusty. Are the children asleep?”

“Erm. Not quite. I told them about the flour mill instead of giving them a bedtime story. Now they want to see it for themselves. I suggested that they could come along with me tomorrow, if that's all right with you.”

“You've already said yes, as far as they're concerned. They'll be all excited about it. No use asking me now.”

“I'll be nice for you to have a day to yourself too.”

“That's true,” Sometimes Poppy thought of how she used to sit by the stream and watch leaves float by. Those were idle days. Since her babies had been born, she'd struggled to find time to take a bath. 

“But the mill is not a safe place for little ones.”

“They're not babies any more, Poppy.”

“Not babies! Do you know, Buttercup got her head stuck in one of the upstairs windows today? She fancied she could climb out of it. We had to smear butter around her head so she could slide out. Now Pipkin keeps calling her 'Butterhead'.”

Dusty chewed his lip. “I did wonder what that was all about.”

“And you won't be getting much work done. They might be as tame as ladybirds at bedtime, but they're certainly not during the day.”

“If I don't, I don't. It's only one day.”

“You just make sure they don't get close to the grindstone.”

“They'll do what their dad tells them,” said Dusty assuredly. “You get yourself a bottle of Basil's meadowsweet wine and enjoy the last of the sun.”

Rose, Pipkin and Buttercup were in a hurry to get out of the house the next morning and refused to sit down for breakfast.

“We're going to work with dad-dy,” sang Rose, spinning around the kitchen.

“I'm going to grind the grain and you have to put it in bags,” Buttercup instructed Pipkin.

Poppy pushed a cheese roll into each of their paws and let them go.

There were still chores to catch up on before Poppy could really start her day off. She hung the laundry on the brambles outside, tidied the children's bedroom and scrubbed the bathroom. For lunch, she packed a basket with bread, blueberry jam and a flask of peppermint tea. She didn't bother with the wine. Going to Basil's would take time and she was getting hungry.

She found a comfortable grassy spot right at the edge of the bank. The blueberry jam was sweet and tangy. Mrs Apple had delivered it only the day before. Poppy found herself eating it by the spoonful but summoned enough self-control to leave a bit for Dusty and the children.

Poppy had thought she would have a nap, but her head was buzzing from the sugary jam. Instead, she went for a walk along the stream. Dragonflies were flitting among the reeds and the air felt rich and heady from the late summer sun. She heard a steady rush of water and knew she was reaching the Dairy Stump, her old home.

The familiar whiff of curds met her at the door. Cicely Crustybread had agreed to take over the dairy after Poppy had married Dusty, and Poppy's grandmother went in now and then to run an expert eye over the production. Poppy wandered into the main cheese kitchen. It was very quiet, but curds were sitting in several moulds on the large table. She sniffed them, and then took a peek at the finished cheeses on the dresser. There was one she didn't not recognise: it was creamy white with flecks of a purple herb. 

“Hello there?” Old Mrs Eyebright came in from the other room. “Oh, Poppy! What a surprise. How are you, my dear?” 

“Hello, grandma. I was just passing and thought I would take a look around. Dusty has the children today.” 

“You're very welcome to. I've just been preparing some blue cheeses. Let me know if there's anything you'd like to try or take home.” 

“I was just having a look at this one,” Poppy pointed at the wheel with the purple flecks. “What is it?” 

“Oh, that! That's one of Cicely's 'inventions'. She calls it a lavender crumble.” Old Mrs Eyebright harrumphed. “Take it down, dear, and I'll give you a slice.” 

Poppy lifted the wheel off the shelf and put it on the table. “Where is Cicely, anyway?” 

“She's at the palace, helping her mother prepare a banquet for Old Vole's honoured visit this evening. I told her to go. She enjoys preparing delicacies and she's got a steadier paw than anyone. I'm here on my own quite often these days.” 

“But how do you manage, grandma? It's hard work, with the squeezing and pressing, loading and carrying.” Poppy put a sliver of the lavender cheese in her mouth. The sharpness of the lavender blended perfectly with the mild, creaminess of the cheese. “Gosh, this is delicious.” 

“Yes, but it's not the first desert cheese she's come up with. As if we have time to make such fancies!” 

They went up to the butter kitchen. Old Mrs Eyebright huffed and puffed up the stairs. “It is hard on me sometimes, but it keeps me fit. Cicely does most of the heavy work.” The butter churn whirred loudly above them, dripping fresh butter into a huge vat at the back. Every inch of the table was covering in pats of butter and dock leaves for wrapping. 

“The two of you have been industrious!” 

Old Mrs Eyebright waved a paw. “This is nothing, there's a ton more butter in the cellar. We have to stock up, you know. All the mice will be busy making pies and cakes soon enough to keep themselves warm and fat in the winter. Here, help me take this lot down.” 

They began to load a cart with the pats of butter. Poppy shook her head. “You must tell Cicely she has to be here. She's a strong, capable young mouse. And what if you take a fall or trip?” 

Her grandmother raised her eyebrows. “And what if Cicely one day decides to get married like you did? She's capable all right, but her heart is in the palace kitchens. I did hope you'd want to come back one day. I gave you care of the Dairy Stump hoping you'd keep it in the family. Imagine – after you, one of your little ones could take over.” 

“It's a pretty idea, but not a realistic one. I can't be here and look after the children at the same time.” They lifted the cart between them and carried it down the stairs. Poppy was going backwards and she had to keep looking back so she wouldn't miss a step. She'd used to be able to do it with her eyes closed, but now she was used to the stairs in Mayblossom Cottage, and they had a different pitch. 

“When I was their age, I'd go out into the meadows to collect wild carrot all by myself. That's how I got talking to the cows. Little mice are wrapped in dock leaves these days.” 

They reached the cellar, but there was no more space on the shelves. Old Mrs Eyebright cleared a table and they offloaded the butter onto it. Poppy saw more of the cheese carts lying about the cellar and smiled to herself. When she was little she used to sit in them and propel herself across the floor. She'd crashed into the shelves a few times and a huge wheel of cheddar has almost fallen on top of her. Lucky her grandmother hadn't found out. 

“I'm no good for this kind of work now, grandma. I couldn't think up delicious lavender crumbles or make these quantities of butter and blue cheese. My head is stuffed with bedtimes, mealtimes, cleaning times and how long a loaf of bread will last between five hungry mice.” 

“All right. I'm not going to force you.” 

Poppy took a jar of clotted cream and three pats of butter for the week. They had run out of cheddar (Poppy had never known that to happen), so she took a quarter of the lavender crumble.


	2. Pulling together

Poppy hurried home so she could start on the tea before Dusty and the children returned. In her mind was a cheese and burdock root bake topped with breadcrumbs, but first she had to take down the washing. She took her laundry basket from under the root of the tree, where she'd hidden it, and carefully lifted the clothes of the branches so as not to tear them.

There was something wrong with Dusty's shirt. Holding it out in front of her, she saw that the sleeve had been nibbled at, and so the seam down the side had fallen apart. The moths had been at her washing! She shook out more of the clothes and saw that huge chunks on some of them had been eaten away.

There wouldn't be enough clean clothes for the next day. Dusty certainly didn't have any more clean shirts – not that his shirt was ever really clean, but flour dust was one thing and three-days worth of sweat was another. She would have to mend it tonight. The girls would need new petticoats too. Poppy felt like crying. She had so much to do and she'd wasted the whole afternoon at the Dairy Stump.

There was no time to make a bake. A simple supper would have to do. She took the clothes inside and sorted them into three piles: those that were still in good condition, those that could be mended and those that were completely ruined.

“Mum, we're home!”

Poppy went downstairs to find her family trailing flour across the hallway and into the kitchen.

“We brought you back some bread,” said Rose, setting a round package on the table. “But we ate some of it already.”

“I ate raw flour,” said Pipkin proudly.

“Do you know how the mill works, Mum?” asked Buttercup. “The water wheel turns a big wheel inside, which turns another wheel, which turns another wheel–”

“I know, darling, I used to work at the dairy mill.”

“DID YOU?” Buttercups eyes bulged.

Dusty had collapsed into chair and looked as if he was about to fall asleep right there.

“How were they?” asked Poppy.

“Exhausting. You were right. How is it that one or another of them is hungry at all times?”

“I'm sorry, Dusty, but I need you to help me out. We have an emergency.” Poppy told him what had happened to the washing. “I'll get your shirt mended by tomorrow morning, but I've no time to make dinner. If you can get me five crabapples, we'll have them with the bread and this cheese that I brought from the dairy.”

Dusty washed his face and whiskers, then went off to the Store Stump.

“Rose and Pipkin, I need you to go to Lily and Flax Weaver and ask if we can have two new girls' petticoats by tomorrow evening. Stick to the path and stay together!”

“I want to go too,” whined Buttercup.

Poppy hadn't chosen her to go on purpose. Buttercup was the most likely to stray and very likely to start a fight with Pipkin. But she was also the cleverest.

“I've got a particular job for you. You're going to help me sew.”

Poppy showed Buttercup how to pass a pine needle and spider's thread through cloth to make a stitch. She gave her the pile of children's undergarments for practise. It didn't matter if the stitching was untidy – no one would see it. Her mind and energy being directed for once, Buttercup worked diligently. Meanwhile, Poppy made a new sleeve for Dusty's shirt out of one of the ruined petticoats.

Rose and Pipkin came back from the Weavers, and Poppy put them to work shredding the bread to crumbs.

“What for? Will it turn back into flour?” asked Rose.

“You'll see,” replied Poppy.

Dusty came in with the crabapples. Poppy lit the fire, speared them on a roasting stick and told Dusty to keep an eye on them. 

Upstairs, Buttercup had finished two undergarments.

“You're doing so well,” said Poppy. She took up the shirt again and sewed up the tear in the side.

Pipkin came up to tell her that the apples were cooked through. The shirt was finished, so Poppy showed him and Rose how she scooped out the middle of the apples and mixed it with the breadcrumbs and lavender cheese to make a filling. 

They rubbed a dab of butter over the insides and outsides of the apples. Poppy's mind wandered back to the dairy. Why were they making so much butter? Even a large family like hers only used up three pats on a normal week – two for baking and one for spreading and cooking. In the run up to winter, maybe they'd need four, but that was only for a few weeks. And what was with all the blue cheese? No wonder they'd run out of cheddar. 

They put the apples to cook over the fire for another few minutes and Poppy called Buttercup down for tea. The cheesy baked apples were delicious. Dusty wasn't keen on the lavender, but the children loved it.

“We've got to make this more often,” said Rose.

After the plates were cleared, Dusty got the children ready for bed as usual. There were dishes and cutlery to wash, but no greasy pans or crusted trays to scrub. It left Poppy time to mend a pair of Dusty's trousers so he wouldn't have to wear his ones from that day again.

Night had only just fallen when Poppy was done, and she couldn't believe that she was going to bed on time. Her earlier panic had completely gone. Everything that absolutely had to be done had been done and she would manage the rest tomorrow.

“We're very good when we all pull together. And you were right about the children. They are capable of more than I give them credit for.”

“Yes, my dear,” said Dusty sleepily.

“You know, I almost feel like I could be the mouse I was when I was young.”

“Why? You're a better mouse than when you were young. But if you mean going back to doing what you did when you were young – by all means.”

Poppy smiled and blew out the candle. “Yes. That is what I meant.”

The next morning Poppy dressed all the children in dungarees. They were the only clothes she had left for them.

“We're going to the Dairy Stump today. You get to see where I used to work.”

“Can we get some more lavender cheese?” asked Pipkin.

“If there's any left.”

Cicely was in the large cream kitchen on one of the upper floors, stirring a bowl of thick honey-coloured cream.

“What's that you're making?” asked Poppy.

“It's an apricot cream. It goes beautifully in a harvest trifle.”

“What is a harvest trifle?”

“Well, it's made with harvest fruits – apples and plums. We make it at the palace.”

The children had run over to the spiral staircase and were taking turns to slide down the banisters. It was better than them sticking their grubby paws into the baths of cream and milk, thought Poppy.

“I was here yesterday with Grandma,” Poppy told her. “And I thought of a few things. You don't need to make any more than a hundreds pats of butter per week. I'd say eighty would do Brambly Hedge nicely, at least in spring and summer. And apart from Lord Woodmouse, I don't know any mouse who is very fond of blue cheese. I would only make one wheel at a time. Other mice prefer cheddar, although I should tell you your lavender crumble has already become a favourite in my house.”

Cicely looked a rather abashed. “Ah. Well, thank you for the feedback, Poppy.”

“You're doing a wonderful job, really. But Grandma said that you prefer to be in the palace kitchens, so I thought, if you didn't mind, I could help out here.”

Cicely glanced at the squealing, giggling little mice. “Aren't you a bit busy?”

“It would only be half a day, and I know how to keep them occupied. I could take care of the staples – the butter, the milk and the cream. You could make your specialities.”

They agreed that Poppy would do the morning shift and Cicely would take over in the afternoon. Old Mrs Eyebright could come in as little or as often as she liked. Poppy was reassured to know that her grandmother wouldn't be stuck at home alone, but neither would she be overexerting herself with work.

As for Rose, Pipkin and Buttercup, they scampered freely between the flour mill and the Dairy Stump. They learnt how to separate wheat and chaff as well as curds and whey, and Poppy pretended not to notice when she heard rumbles and crashes from the cellar. Pipkin liked the flour mill, because he got to jump onto flour bags until he was as dusty as his father. Buttercup was at the Dairy Stump whenever the cows paid a visit. She enjoyed talking to them as her great-grandmother had. Rose was mostly out by the stream, filling her little tummy with cream-cheese rolls.


End file.
